


Stockholm Syndrome

by ginkyou



Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Abuse, Animal Death, Dubious Consent, M/M, Possibly Underage Sex, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginkyou/pseuds/ginkyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On how Rudolf learned that love always hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stockholm Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this anonymous ask](http://martinpasching.tumblr.com/post/140682503286/solution-stockholm-syndrome-style-deathrudolf). Unbeta'd. Not very happy with the way this turned out, but then again I'm not very happy with life in general right now. Will probably end up deleting this tomorrow, let's be real.

Rudolf's memories of his childhood were fragmented.

He remembered that he found a kitten once, left to die under a pile of rubble. He took pity on the poor thing and took it in, grooming it and cleaning its muddy fur and giving it milk. Over time, he grew to love it.

The sound of its neck snapping stayed with him for the rest of his life.

  
  


He could never recall why he did it. He remembered that he did not want to do it, but that he had to. He had no choice. Death watched him silently from across the room, and even after he had killed the animal Rudolf kept going, crushing the body, ripping it apart, the bones breaking under his fingers until his hands were covered in fur and blood. Even years later, he could vividly remember looking down at the gory mess in his hands and not being able to stop tearing at it. It was like he was not himself, and whoever was in control of his body wanted to do nothing but mangle everything he ever loved.

If Death had not stopped him and gently taken the mangled body from him, he would have kept going until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp of guts and hair. Death stood over him silently until Rudolf broke into tears.

“She wants nothing to do with me,” he choked, his gore-covered hands balled into angry, desperate fists. “It's my fault she left.” He never knew if he hated or loved his mother, just like he never knew if she hated or loved him, but he knew that he needed her attention and admiration more than he needed air to breathe. He needed _her_ , and she had left and now he would have to suffocate.

Death handed the cat's broken body to one of his angels waiting in the shadows, and bent down to him. “That is true, but you don't need her. I'm here for you. Remember, I'm your friend,” Death told him and reached out to stroke his hair. Death kissed his forehead, and Rudolf found that all words he could have used to disagree with had vanished from his mind. “She doesn't understand you. Trying to reach her is pointless. Stay with me. Unlike her, I would never hurt you.”

It was not the last time Rudolf killed an animal under Death's watchful gaze.

  
  


In his heart, Rudolf feared Death just like his mother did. It was an instinctual fear, the kind of fear that a hare felt when it saw a bird of prey blot out the sun with its wings. Yet somehow, as Death consoled him during the many nights he lay awake, he began to feel drawn to him. And unlike his mother, he soon understood that fleeing was pointless.

In the beginning, he still hid from Death – under the covers, under the bed, scrambling to another room, another building, another country – but no matter where he tried to go Death had always found him. So he had given up. He stayed, made placid by fear, while his mother ran from Death.

Death rewarded his quiescence in his own way, and Rudolf discovered that he had lied when he said that he would never hurt him.

  
  


The first time he still said no.

“It hurts,” Rudolf said afterwards, more to himself than to Death, his voice shaking with bitter upset at the surprise of this betrayal. He was curled up on the bed, trying not to feel his own body weighing down on him. His skin felt like it wanted to crawl off his body.

“I know,” Death replied. “Love always hurts.”

“Why are you doing this to me?,” Rudolf asked. Tears were burning in his eyes, and he could not tell if they were caused by pain or anger.

“Because I love you,” Death said. Rudolf hid his face in his hands and sobbed. He had always desired nothing more than to be loved. But he had never realized that it would be this painful. In a way, he was glad now that noone had ever loved him before, not even his parents.

“Do you love me?,” Death asked. Rudolf opened his fingers enough to see him, but was not able to find the words to answer him. Death smiled, and Rudolf assumed that Death chose to believe that he had wanted to say yes, and therefore Rudolf, too, chose to believe that that was what he had wanted to say.

  
  


By the fifth time he stopped saying anything, and after the tenth time he stopped counting.

  
  


In the following years, Rudolf poured his entire soul and heart into his love affairs, and everyone he loved, he fucked, for that was what he had been taught love was. Even as they left him one by one, Death was always waiting on his bed, there to console him, no matter how much his touch might hurt Rudolf.

The only places where he was free was where he were the bars and whorehouses, and the older Rudolf grew the more he frequented both. Death was never far from these kinds of etablissements, their corridors always buzzing with jealous ex-lovers hiding knives in their pockets and drunken outcasts looking for the fight to end it all, but Rudolf still discovered that the human company he found in them seemed to make Death's influence on him fade.

In the brothels of Vienna, he sought love, and even though he found nothing but disease he still returned time and time again. In the bars, the coffee houses, the cafés he could truly speak his mind, voice loud and often drenched in alcohol, but it did not take long for Death to find him there. No matter where he went, Death sat tucked away in the shadows of the corner table and patiently watched him try to drink and drug and shout the pain away.

Rudolf's voice faltered when he first met his eyes in the middle of a speech.

“Is everything alright?,” the men around him asked him. He could feel Death watching him from the shadows and knew that this was a test, and that if he failed it, it would be his end.

He replied, “yes,” because that was truly what he believed, even though he knew in his heart that it wasn't true.

  
  


Death was neverendingly supportive of Rudolf's revolutionary matters, but he was not very fond of the people Rudolf was meeting in his fight for democracy. Rudolf began to slip out of his grip more and more with every new person he could speak his heart to, and Death did not like that one bit.

They sat together one morning, and Rudolf could feel that something was wrong. Death had not said a word the entire time. Rudolf had to leave for yet another conspiratorial meeting but he did not want to enrage Death, and so he sat and kneaded his hands in silence for what seemed like hours.

“I don't think you need me anymore,” Death finally told him. Rudolf felt like his entire world immediately buckled sideways.

“What do you mean?,” Rudolf asked, even though he knew exactly what Death meant.

“You have your friends now, you have your cause, so you don't need me any longer.”

Rudolf's stomach felt like it wanted to climb up and out of his throat. His tongue weighed heavy in his mouth, too dry to speak.

“I have matters that need attending to. This is goodbye, my friend,” Death said, getting up unceremoniously and dusting off his clothes.

“No, I,” Rudolf said, his voice crumbling in his throat. Something in him could feel Death smirk as he grappled with his words, even though Death's face was just as emotionless as before. He was always so good with words, yet now his throat had seized up. Death was almost out the door when Rudolf managed to force himself to speak.

“Please don't leave me,” Rudolf said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Death didn't react. “Please don't,” he repeated, louder this time, stopping mid-sentence when Death turned around. Death looked at him expectantly, eyebrows slightly raised. Rudolf felt as if he had forgotten every word he had ever been taught. It was now or never, and he could not say what he needed to say.

Death smiled and Rudolf felt a wave of gratitude wash over his body. Death walked to him, arms open, and Rudolf melted into his embrace, one of Death's hands on his back, one hand in his hair.

“Thank you,” Rudolf said, not even sure what exactly he was thankful for.

“I will stay with you as long as you need me,” Death said.

“Thank you,” Rudolf repeated. Death's hands were around his throat now, and Rudolf still felt thankful.


End file.
